


Postwar

by saucisson



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Goat Farm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucisson/pseuds/saucisson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Postwar, in the Rhineland, at home</p>
            </blockquote>





	Postwar

**Author's Note:**

> Porn and pastoral. My contribution to the "goat farm" meme.
> 
> Babelfish, you are fondly remembered.

\- Agron it comes! It comes it comes- ...

Agron’s mouth is filled with bittersaltsweet all at once as he hears his lover’s voice first break off into choked silence then explode into gasps. Nasir’s thighs tense against Agron’s shoulders, back arched, fingers gripping bedcovers. Agron feels Nasir’s cock spasm between his lips. Once, twice, a third time, matching rhythm of Nasir’s moans. He pulls away and swallows, hand still stroking shaft. A moment, then fourth and fifth spasm, gentler than the first few, bring sighs and the last of Nasir’s seed, a few drops landing on his stomach that Agron traces fingers through.

Agron slyly wipes mouth along arm as he pulls himself up to lie alongside Nasir. He loves this moment, when Nasir is not yet back in body. He watches sense return slowly, pleased at his skill at making it vanish in the first place. So responsive, Nasir is, almost as if the gods had made him expressly to fit Agron’s hands, mouth, cock. Or maybe they had made Agron to fit Nasir’s. The will of the gods are not his strong suit. Agron understands the world of men; strength, strategy, battle, building up, tearing down, eating, drinking, sex. He understands that he loves Nasir, and wants Nasir, and would spend every day of his life giving Nasir pleasure if he could.

His lover turns to him and kisses slick mouth, tasting his salt mingled with mulled wine they had drunk and Agron’s own taste. Nasir breathes in the scent of his unlikely giant from Germania who loves him with unyielding fierceness. He marvels that his life had taken such turns as to bring him here, to this cold land so many thousands of leagues from place of birth, to lie in bed of straw and linen with Agron’s body pressed against his.

Agron runs fingers through sweat-damp black locks, trimmed shorter and now showing curl and wave. Nasir rests back of hand against his lover’s chest and idly traces swirling patterns, eyes still closed. 

\- When I can raise head off bed I would return such pleasure to you.

\- I have my pleasure in yours.

\- No, Nasir shakes his head. - I cannot bear burden of gratitude so great as this. 

His eyes remain closed, head lies against Agron’s arm. Agron draws finger along lover’s jaw, light beard shaven daily, a ritual his handsome Syrian maintains even so far removed from his home and people, and so far from his former life existing only to let others do as they would with his body. A small vanity that drives Agron mad with alternating exasperation and desire. Kisses follow line of touch. 

\- You must have your own Little Death, Nasir murmurs. - I want it for you.

Agron kisses mouth once, twice. He smiles at the sleepy face. A third kiss. 

\- I shall have mine then, my heart, Agron replies. - You but rest awhile, let spirit return to body. He places head against Nasir’s, lips against lips and drops hand to cock, small strokes to tease fully back to life. He sighs into Nasir’s mouth as his stiff fingers trace patterns known since boyhood. Nasir’s eyes open heavy-lidded to look upon his lover. Agron’s own eyes are closed now, mouth is open slightly, and hand grips cock, moving in rapid familiar motions. Nasir pushes Agron onto his back and moves up on one elbow to gaze upon his man’s body. He kisses shoulder, chest, nipple, neck, ear, jaw. Agron’s hand moves faster, breath comes faster. Nasir’s hand reaches down to stroke thigh, slide fingers around balls, underneath to opening. Agron’s breath turns ragged. 

Nasir pulls Agron's hand away.

\- Stop.

Agron's eyes open, brow furrows in almost-agony. 

\- No, he breathes. - I can't I can't. Agron is panting now. Hand moves back to cock, but is knocked away again. 

\- Yes, his lover replies, and slides body down to kiss inside thigh. Mouth moves up cock, kissing and licking, and dances over head, tasting first salt. Nasir takes Agron's cock in mouth. 

\- Ah! Agron sighs as hot and wet envelop him, firm tongue sending small shocks through his body. Nasir's mouth slides down and up and down again, he feels Agron's fingers in his hair, pushing. He takes as much as he can without gagging, and feels cock grow and harden like stone within his mouth. Moans, and another taste of salt on his tongue as his lover's body goes rigid. 

Agron groans through clenched teeth as pleasure comes, obliterating the world in its wake. All that is left is cock, mouth, wet, heat, tongue. He raises head to look upon Nasir, sees curly head and full lips around cock, hand on shaft drawing out waves of pleasure and spurts of seed. The vision sends one more surge through him. Head drops back onto pillow, moaning softly as tide recedes.

Nasir lifts head to lick lips and wipe back of hand across chin. Agron pulls him up to rest against his own body, lays hand beneath head with other around Nasir's shoulders, smile pulling at corner of lips. 

The fire pops as wood shifts on embers. Their home is small and cosy, timber and thatch, trees hewn by Agron's strong arms but planed and smoothed by neighbors and kin when Agron's wounded hands grew too stiff to grip fine tools. Nasir wraps Agron's hands in hot poultice and linen when Northern cold makes them ache with lingering injury. He massages gently until fingers curl again. When air is too cold even for this, he takes Agron to their bed and causes blood to heat throughout body. No days are wasted for want of nimble fingers.

Outside, two kids jump and race in wooden pen, nanny idly chewing hay and observing her brood. Gossiping hens scratch dirt for grain. Livestock's home, stone and timber, abuts the wooden cottage that lies along well-trod road towards the village. Neighbors nearby have cattle for milking, and children who come by to play with blunt wooden swords Nasir has fashioned for them and listen to stories of the hero Spartacus and his generals Crixus and Gannicus told by soldier returned with scars and foreign companion who looks so different and speaks languages strange to little ears.

Nasir is clever and thoughtful. He would not see Agron despair for lack of usefulness. He observes and tinkers and fits tools and household objects to Agron's hands. He barters with local craftsmen and blacksmith to make adjustments and fittings. Agron first believes this pity and bites back frustration and temper, but he sees light in Nasir's eyes when he has something new to show to his lover and knows that this is Nasir's devotion to him. He knows that he is ever in Nasir's thoughts, so he takes each gift and learns to use with skill. It is Nasir's love that keeps him among the living.

Wars West of river rage on, battles continue as Rome pushes Northward seeking more land to conquer, more people to rip from homes, always more to consume and expand bloated body. Agron can no longer fight, hands too damaged to grip sword for long. But he can teach, and he does. With Nasir's aid as demonstrator in lessons, he teaches young men (and women who are strong and willing) to defend and block, to jab and strike and land blow. He teaches as Doctore did, as he taught Nasir and others, demanding and rigid, and with praise made sweeter for its rarity. He teaches skill and strength, and he teaches strategy from lessons hard-learned at the hands of Romans. He hopes he serves his brethren well. He hopes Spartacus is proud of him.

He turns head to kiss lover's hair, rests head against head.

\- Du bist mein herz, he sighs.

\- Sie sind mein leben, Nasir replies. He props himself up on an elbow to gaze down upon the green eyes and freckled face of the man he has followed for a thousand miles. Agron smiles up at him, hearing words in his own tongue spoken by his beloved from so far away.


End file.
